


The Lonely Moon Rises

by heartandseoul (tokyolights), starboysoo (starboychoi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Chanyeol is just trying his best okay?, Eventual Romance, Hitchhiker Kyungsoo, M/M, Road Trips, They just want to be in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokyolights/pseuds/heartandseoul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboychoi/pseuds/starboysoo
Summary: There’s a guy standing by the pumps when Chanyeol  comes back outside. Chanyeol saw him through the window, edging closer to the car while kicking sand around with his worn out slip on Vans. Chanyeol  tucked his wallet in the pocket of jacket and meets his eyes --enticingly brown-- as he approaches.





	1. i don't wanna waste another minute here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pentagonism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentagonism/gifts), [MaeYeol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeYeol/gifts), [nahturas (Kihyuncrush)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kihyuncrush/gifts).



Everything's alright until Chanyeol reached California.

Not to say the road _to_ California was great--Chanyeol  got two flat tires on the Florida turnpike, his air conditioner started malfunctioning by the time he got to Alabama, and forget Louisiana. That was kind of a nightmare. He ran out of gas twice, luckily not on the highway but still.

He also didn’t quite have a plan once he reached California; that would mean that he knew what he wanted, but Chanyeol  hasn't known what he wanted for as long as he remembered. He knew what he _didn't_ want though: conflict. He didn't want to be held back. He didn't want to hear people’s voices, or feel the weight of his entire family on his shoulders. He didn't want to be the family disappointment anymore,  he was tired of being the gay and otherwise disappointing son in a band that wasn’t even successful.

He’s sick of people in general.

Chanyeol  just knew he wanted to keep driving and never look back, leaving tired old Florida for exciting new California. He wanted to drive away from everyone who knew his name, away from responsibilities and expectations. Away from people telling who he is, what he’s going to do, and who he could never be.

There's a gas station up the road and, looking at the amount of gas he had in the tank, Chanyeol  decided to fill up. Not that he wouldn’t be able to in the inner city, but down miles and miles of desert road Chanyeol  decided to not take the chance and have it end up like Louisiana again. Breaking down in the middle of the deserted road wasn't such a good idea in Chanyeol ’s eyes.

It's a small gas station, Chanyeol  noticed, when he pulled into one of only two gas pumps. He’s worried that there’s no one there, looking at the lack of card-operated dispensers because the place looks like it belonged in a ghost town, but he catches a moving figure in the small shop. He put the Camero in park and, taking off his sunglasses, grabs the keys and puts the items in the right pocket of his black leather jacket getting getting out of the car.

A gust of wind ruffled his hair. It’s warm, sending a pleasant chill down Chanyeol ’s spine as he adjusts his leather jacket. The jacket has been plastered to his back for hours since his last stop in Arizona and he considered taking it off completely and leaving it in the car, but decided it's best not to. He pulls out his wallet and heads for the door, going towards the ATM to withdraw a bunch of cash.

It's the first rule of running away, don't bring too much attention to yourself.

There’s a guy standing by the pumps when Chanyeol  comes back outside. Chanyeol saw him through the window, edging closer to the car while kicking sand around with his worn out slip on Vans. Chanyeol  tucked his wallet in the pocket of jacket and meets his eyes --enticingly brown-- as he approaches.

“Cool ride,” the guy says, a faint smile on his face. He pulls a hand out from the pocket of the denim jean jacket to let it wander across the pump, fingers distractingly drumming a beat a beat on the surface.

Chanyeol’s brow arches as he stops, barely three feet in front of the guy, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. There weren’t nearly enough people who appreciated his choice of wheels, not understanding why he chose a red ‘70 Chevy Corvette rather than a newer model. Most people didn’t know where he got it from either.

“You like American muscle?”

“I do.”

He scoffs, hoping to cover the blush he can feel rising to his face as the stranger smirked. He wasn’t used to being hit on -- he knows what he looks like, knows he doesn’t meet a realistic beauty standard set by his home country or the new one -- but it’s rare that a stranger would do it within the first  ten minutes of talking to him. And Chanyeol knew it was probably a joke, but the voice rings of intent.

He’s bold. Chanyeol likes it.

Eventually, Chanyeol’s eyes wander, taking the guy in. He’s wearing a jean jacket over a plain white ringer tee, black jeans cuffed  so that his ankles are visible. His clothes look dusty, his face might be covered in a thin layer of dirt smudged against his jawline, and his face is adorned with stubble from god knows how long. There’s a younger vibe to him as well as a mature gaze that makes it hard for Chanyeol to place his age.

“Where’s your car?” Chanyeol wonders, walking to open the fuel receptacle’s hatch, removing the dust cover.

“Don’t have one,” the guy replies, hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans.  He’s leaning against the pillar as Chanyeol eyes him, eyebrows raised.

“How did you manage that, huh? To get to the middle of nowhere without a car?” Chanyeol asks, “There’s been no sign of life for, like, the past twenty minutes.”

“I hitchhiked. From Leonia to, well, here. Wherever I am.”

“Jersey?”

“Yep. Couldn’t stand it there.”

“Isn’t that a little risky?” Chanyeol points out with a concerned expression, the _for someone like you_ is intentionally left out.

“You’re gonna lecture me or something?” He huffs, “Tell me I’m far too reckless or pretty to ride with strangers in the Californian desert?”

“Maybe I should, shouldn’t I?” Chanyeol lifts his gaze.

“Well I survived going from Jersey to California, so I think I’m fine without the lecturing.”

Chanyeol’s waiting for the guy to ask him for a ride -- outright -- but he doesn’t. He just watches silently as he gasses up the car and hooks the nozzle back on the pump. He watches Chanyeol close the fuel door and it feels heady, reminiscent of a type of tension he hadn’t felt in the open summer air in quite a while. Part of Chanyeol wants to extend the offer to the stranger, but the he remembers: 

What did he have to offer, exactly?

Chanyeol clears his throat, sliding his palms together to clear the dust as he rounds the Corvette to get to the driver’s side of the car. The guy is just watching him, staring at him almost, and it takes all his might to not turn back and look at him. His mind was racing with possible outcomes of just  _ leaving  _ the guy at the gas station as he places his sunglasses back on, starting up the engine and circling around to where the guy is still standing by the pumps, but that’s as far as he manages to get before he just  _ stops. _

He lets out a heavy sigh, gripping the wheel with a firm grip before ducking his head down to peer through the passenger’s seat window. 

“Where you headed?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Anywhere,” he replies and Chanyeol has to swallow around the lump in his throat. If someone were to ask him that same question, that’d be the response he’d give too. 

Chanyeol lets his heart skip one fast beat before reaching to open the passenger seat door. 

“Come on, get in.”  
  


The guy’s eyes widen in disbelief, and the there’s a smile stretched across his lips as he climbs into the car. Chanyeol can feel the body heat radiating from being so close to him, even through a layer of clothing, and it’s overhwelming, distracting, and god he didn’t even know what to do having someone else in the car after being alone for so long. His hand is itching to grab the other’s and hold it, but instead he grips the wheel with both hands until is knuckles turn white.

“Hey, I don’t have any money,” the guy says, “Just so you know.” 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says, and the guy turns to him, “I do.”

He hits the gas and the gas station gets further and further away, until it’s nothing but a mere memory.


	2. life is too short to last long

“What kind of name is Kyungsoo?”

“The one that I like the most,” the guy--Kyungsoo--defensively replies, but he hasn't stopped smiling since he’s gotten into the car. He’s slouching in his seat, legs spread with one knee dangerously close to the gearshift. Chanyeol expects to feel the fabric of his jeans brush against his knuckles every time he grabs for it, but it never happens. “Thomas? It’s for boring people. Kyungsoo has flare.”

“Sounds like something an edgy college student would say,” Chanyeol laughs.

Kyungsoo shakes is head, smile faltering for the first time in the past twenty minutes.

“High school, actually,” he corrects, “I never got to finish my senior year. So I never went to college.”

“And why not?” Chanyeol can't help but ask, and hope that the guy next to him wasn't underage. He’d have a hard time explaining _ that one  _ to his parents. 

“I dropped out to get a job, we didn't quite have enough to feed ourselves,” he said and Chanyeol didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out that the topic was bothering the guy. “ If I ever had a chance to go, it's long gone by now.”

Chanyeol had gone to college and it was the worst years of his life. He spent eight years in medical school, stressing to death and wearing himself thin with too many classes and no sleep. For what? To  _ uphold a legacy _ ? Chanyeol feels like grinding his teeth, he can hear a familiar echo in his head pushing him to go.

“You’re not missing much,” he mumbles, adjusting his grip in the wheel.

Kyungsoo snorts, like he disagrees, but never pushes the subject forward. Neither of them do. 

Surprisingly enough, Chanyeol felt...at ease. He didn't know what to expect when he’d offered Kyungsoo a ride --he’d never picked up any form of stray kid or hitchhiker--but it wasn't this: talking to Kyungsoo felt natural, unlike talking to most of his former classmates. Usually, Chanyeol would try and scrape by with very little words, not a huge fan of conversation, even though he’s been told he can keep an entire conversation alive just by reacting. 

Thing is: he doesn't mind talking at this very moment. 

He doesn't know if it’s because of Kyungsoo --how everything he says strikes a nerve within Chanyeol, so much so that he  _ has  _ to respond--or because he hasn't spoken to any other human being for seven days that now he feels as if Kyungsoo is an outlet to vent out his frustrations verbally. 

Whatever it was, it made Chanyeol uncharacteristically verbose at this exact moment. 

“I thought you’d be a faster driver,” Kyungsoo notes after a deafening moment of silence. Chanyeol makes a mental note: Kyungsoo isn't very fond of silences. 

He cocks one eyebrow, looking over to see the smile that returned to Kyungsoo’s face. 

“Why’d you think that?”

“You’re driving a Corvette, you got a bad boy vibe going on,” Kyungsoo suggests, “And you look like Asian Danny Zuko with your hair greased back like that. Also, your car is a muscle car too. Old ladies don't drive muscle cars.”

“You're saying I drive like an old lady now, Kyungsoo?”

“You said it, not me.” Kyungsoo defends, “Just saying: you look rebellious. Like you don't like following rules.”

“I don't.”

“Me neither.” Kyungsoo offers, as if trying to make Chanyeol feel better, and it worked. Chanyeol’s eyes drift over Kyungsoo’s face before looking forward again, still glaringly aware of the tension that's thicker than before. There’s a growing curiosity as minutes pass and it raises new questions that Chanyeol needed answers to--like where did he come from, why did he come to California, and why did he hitchhike all the way to the middle of nowhere?--but he doesn’t ask because, in all actuality, he wouldn’t want Kyungsoo to ask those questions to him either. 

They’re still nothing but strangers, neither of them wanting to go in the opposite direction of where the car is taking them.  He doesn’t know Kyungsoo’s motives, and Kyungsoo doesn’t know his, and it doesn’t matter. “You know, I never got your name.”

“Huh?” 

“Your name,” Kyungsoo reiterates, “I never got it. I’m literally calling you guy-who-drives-a-Camero-and-let-me-get-in-the-car. I’m sure you have a name.” 

“Richard.”

“Richard? That’s so-”

“But my  _ actual _ name is Chanyeol.”

“That’s cool-” the sound of Kyungsoo’s stomach growling interrupts the silence, and Chanyeol is amused. Kyungsoo groans in embarrassment. He’s a second away from laughing before his brain catches up with him. 

“If you don’t have money,” Chanyeol seriously says, “when did you eat?”

“I don’t know,” and Kyungsoo shrugs, “I ate a candy bar and a bag of chips before the cashier kicked me out.” 

“Jesus Christ, “ he sighs, “Alright, when we see a place we’ll stop and eat.” 

“We don’t have to do that--” Kyungsoo hurries, “I’m fine. I won’t have the money to pay you back either way-” 

“You don’t have to,” Chanyeol retorts. “Besides, it’s lunch time. Let’s eat lunch.” 

Kyungsoo leans to look at the clock on the dashboard, once again getting dangerously close but somehow avoids brushing Chanyeol’s arm. 

“It’s not even noon yet,” he protests.

“Brunch then?” he suggests. 

Kyungsoo look stunned,  mouth agape until he remembers he’s not a human fly catcher and close it. Chanyeol prepares to counter any further protests that will spill through Kyungsoo’s mouth, but Kyungsoo doesn’t argue. He leans back, resting his head against the neck support. 

“You’re a strange man Richard.” 

“Please, just call me Chanyeol.” 

“Oh, okay. If you want me to.” 

“Yeah. Chanyeol’s a way more pleasant memory.” 


	3. when everything is wrong, we move along

Chanyeol’s had three cups of coffee, and he’s tempted to drink another with the cranberry chicken caesar salad he’s about to eat, but chooses water in the end.  

He’s well aware he should cut down on his daily caffeine intake. Baekhyun had always told him the harm that it does to his body, and he knows  Baekhyun is right--he’s a doctor after all, it’s his  _ job  _ to tell him what he needs to hear. Kyungsoo insists he doesn’t need a drink, but Chanyeol calls bullshit and orders a Sprite for him. He looks like he wants to argue, but also chug the entire thing down in one go. He keeps his mouth shut, answering only about curly fries that Chanyeol ordered along with his burger because Kyungsoo wanted them. Kyungsoo says a small Sprite is fine. Chanyeol gets a large. 

Kyungsoo gets annoyed. Chanyeol doesn’t care. 

He finds it amusing to watch Kyungsoo eat because he eats like he’s been hungry for his whole life, which he realizes might not be  _ that _ far from the truth. He slathers an unholy amount of condiments on the bun of the burger, dips more than half of his curly fries in ketchup, and stuffs as many as he could in his mouth. He only comes up for air after taking a sip of Sprite. Chanyeol tries not to stare and focuses on his food, blocking out of the small noises coming from across the table. 

“This food is  _ so _ good,” Kyungsoo says before diving in for more. 

“If you slow down and register your eating you’ll taste more,” Chanyeol laughs. 

Kyungsoo snorts, but slows down.  

Chanyeol’s keeping tabs on the car by having requested a window seat, which just so happened to be a booth. The diner was warm and crowded, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol both having shed their jackets. Chanyeol kept getting distracted by Kyungsoo and his general...squishiness, for lack of better words. He’s totally not checking out the way the baggy material of the shirt Kyungsoo was wearing flowed against his body, or the fact that he looks like a squirrel when he eats. 

Nope. Definitely not thinking about how he wants to wreck him either. 

Chanyeol looks up to see Kyungsoo, fingers spread and all covered in red, after he lets out an angry  _ fuck _ spill from his lips and Chanyeol rolls his eyes. He’s just about to pass Kyungsoo a napkin when Kyungsoo sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking it clean like a child would. He does the same with the rest of his fingers, one after the other, and Chanyeol doesn’t register that he’s staring until Kyungsoo’s staring right back at him. 

How is it that a guy he just met makes him feel like a horny teenage boy all over again? Just by sucking his fingers? Chanyeol didn’t know, but he felt it. 

Chanyeol tears his eyes away as the waitress walks up to him, a hint of confusion on her face. 

“Sir, are you paying with cash or card today?” she asks sweetly, bringing the check to the table. 

Chanyeol’s about ready to whip out his card, but instead stares as he decides. 

“Cash,” he decides finally, “Is there an ATM around here?”

“Yes there is,” she responds, “When you walk through the front doors, it’s all the way to the right.” 

“Alright. Thanks so much,” he responds. 

Kyungsoo is staring at him and there’s a wonder, a sparkle, in his eyes. Chanyeol likes it. Chanyeol shouldn’t like it, and he feels it deep in his gut. 

“What?” Chanyeol replies flatly. 

“Nothing.” 

“You’ve got dirt on your face.” 

“Oh, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Chanyeol wonders why he likes this kid. 


	4. i am the prodigal son, a shameful prodigy too

“Chanyeol! Hey, I was listening to that!” 

“On my phone sweetheart, and it was pretty bad,” Chanyeol reasons, eyes on the road as he puts his hand back on the steering wheel, “What was that?” He can see Kyungsoo’s jaw drop out of the corner of his eye, which he found oddly endearing. 

“Just so you know: that was Toshiki Kadomatsu,” he seriously responds, “Pioneer in his genre-” Kyungsoo stops with a sigh, “You still don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a clue Soo.”

“Citypop?” Kyungsoo groans, sounding genuinely upset, “It’s like disco, but in Japanese?” 

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, shaking his head with a smile growing steadily on his lips. 

“I don’t listen to foreign music all that much,” Chanyeol confesses.

“Oh no,” Kyungsoo groans again, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those Western elitists that think ‘Murica’s number one in the music industry so it has to be the best thing in the world.” 

“I mean, it’s dominating the charts-”

“That doesn’t make it good, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo snorts, “Let me ask you something, do you prefer Korean music over American music?” 

“Well,”  _ I despise American music, but it’s all that’s playing on the radio sadly,  _ “It depends on what mood I’m in.”

“Mood? What does mood have to-” 

“Everything, Kyungsoo, you know what I mean.” 

Kyungsoo sighs, flopping his hands as if giving up the fight, and Chanyeol is struck with how much Kyungsoo reminds him of Junmyeon in that moment. The car has been silent since Chanyeol paused the music playing from his phone, and the only thing that’s being heard is the sound of the roaring car and whizzing wind outside. 

It’s the first moment of silence and Chanyeol doesn’t want it to last long. He’s relieved when Kyungsoo is tapping impatiently on his knees. 

It’s hot, even with the air conditioning on, and neither of them bother to put their jackets back on after leaving the diner -- now the backseat is wearing both jackets. Kyungsoo notices that Chanyeol didn’t have any bags in the backseat, but doesn’t mention it. Chanyeol wants to ask what Kyungsoo is doing away from home without any personal belongings, so he supposes that it’s fair if he didn’t ask either.

How long were they going to keep this up before they gave each other  _ actual  _ answers? Chanyeol wondered about that too.

“Let me drive and you can pick whatever you want,” Kyungsoo offers. 

“No way,” Chanyeol scoffs, “Are even old enough to drive?”

“Dude, I’m twenty-three,” Kyungsoo says, “Way more than old enough.”

“I don’t care if you’re twenty-three,” Chanyeol says. He does care, but he didn’t let it show, “Do you have a license?”

“Does that matter? We’re, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere,” Kyungsoo tries to reason.

Chanyeol throws a glance Kyungsoo’s way. “I care,” he says, and adds, “Because it’s my car and I don’t really want it scratched, and it’s also  _ highly illegal _ .” Kyungsoo pulls a puppy dog face and chanyeol sighs in defeat. “But you can pick the music for the drive.”   Chanyeol hopes the heat that’s rising to his face doesn’t show as Kyungsoo beams at him. He reaches for the phone, flipping through various artists until he settles and Chanyeol wonders how on God’s green earth they haven’t brushed against each other in the tight confines of the car. It’s beginning to drive him crazy because it would be so easy--to reach over, to slide his hand over Kyungsoo’s knee--and he knew Kyungsoo wouldn’t even mind at all. Chanyeol thinks that because, whatever’s been going on since they met, he’s sure that it’s mutual. He’s seen Kyungsoo stare, lingering longer than any normal glance should’ve taken, Chanyeol’s taken note of the dark look in Kyungsoo’s eyes when they meet his own. 

It was thrilling, to say the least, but terrifying. 

Both because he didn’t leave for a hook-up. Chanyeol left for solitude, for peace and quiet, for ridding himself of things that made him feel low,  but Kyungsoo-well, he liked to rip Chanyeol’s plans apart. 

And Chanyeol, he didn’t even mind.  


	5. we live in chemistry away from all the wasted time and taste.

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo find a local coffee shop in a small town where Chanyeol decides he needs a coffee break.

“Coffee sweetie?” the waitress--Cindy, as Chanyeol read on her name tag--asks, holding her notepad eagerly in hand.

“A cup of coffee with a cream and two sugars,” Chanyeol responds, picking at his nails. For a split second, it seemed as if Kyungsoo’s intoxicating scent fills his nose, and it throws Chanyeol off for longer than he’d care to admit aloud.

“Coming up sweetie, stay right here and I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you.”

One thing that ran across Chanyeol’s mind was that he didn’t know how long it’s been since Kyungsoo showered, or had a proper night’s rest that wasn’t in the back seat of a car without his seatbelt on; he didn’t even know how long Kyungsoo had been away from home, but he didn’t look like he’d been hitchhiking for miles upon miles. He didn’t even smell like he’d been without a shower: there’s a faint hint of vanilla, sun, and light sweat, but nothing that was disgusting.

His wallet is heavy with the loads of cash he pulled out from the ATM at the diner, and he feels Kyungsoo eyeing him as he pays for his coffee on top of Kyungsoo’s tea--because yes he does like more than soda, but he didn’t like coffee. They head outside to sit in the sun, and that’s when Chanyeol decides to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“Go ahead,” Chanyeol says, “Spit it out already.”

“You’re a coffee junkie,” he teases once they’ve gotten back in the car.

“Eh, that’s not exactly new,” he replied, “Baekhyun says the same thing all the time.”

Kyungsoo lets out a laugh. Chanyeol waits him out.

“You don’t like using your debit card either,” Kyungsoo says, “You’re hesitant about asking for sugar and cream even though that’s how you like your coffee, it’s like you’re trying to avoid doing things a certain way, even if it’s comfortable for you.”

Chanyeol looks to his coffee, unsure of how to respond. When he looks up again, Kyungsoo looks like he’s contemplating whether or not he should’ve stayed quiet.

“That’s rather observant of you,” Chanyeol says.

“It’s an honest-to-god curse,” Kyungsoo shrugs.

Chanyeol hums, contemplating over telling Kyungsoo before making a decision.

“I’m running from something,” he simply says.

“The law? You’re a fugitive?”

“No Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol brings the coffee cup up to his mouth, “‘M not a fugitive.”

“You look like one with everything you’re wearing. Maybe it’s the leather, who knows?”

Chanyeol laughs at that, and it surprises Kyungsoo just as much as it surprises Chanyeol himself. He’s wearing the leather jacket because it’s the only article of clothing he has with practical pockets, but as practical as it is he can see Kyungsoo’s point. He’s rugged, and hasn’t shaven. He looks like a criminal on the run.

Kyungsoo is looking at him with big doe eyes at this point, and the expression is so close to awe that Chanyeol swallows. He tilts his head to the side.

“Kyungsoo, why on earth would you get in the car with a criminal?”

“It’s not the first one I’ve dealt with,” came his simplistic reply.  
  
The wave of concern that washes over Chanyeol is intense. He figures Kyungsoo’s story might’ve been awful, but hearing him say that it was awful made it so much more real. An uneasiness creeps up Chanyeol’s spine, and he wants to spill all the surplus questions he has locked in his mind, but he realizes Kyungsoo might not really appreciate it.

“I’m running from my family,” he says instead, “Or what’s left of it, anyways.” Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, and Chanyeol goes on. “I grew up in a mansion, we were...wealthy,” Chanyeol didn’t like the word whatsoever, “There was an assassination attempt on my sister and I. My mother and father died helping us get out of the house. My sister and I were forced to move here because we weren’t safe in Korea anymore,” Chanyeol feels a weight on his lungs. He’s talked about this before--of course he has, he had a therapist and everything--but he doubts he’ll ever be able to tell the story without a lump in his throat. It hurts every time he talks about it, but it’s just the reality of things. He had to admit that this was the moment his life turned to shit.

For a long time he’d blamed himself, sheerly because he wished he had the ability to stop what had happened.

The sad thing was, Kyungsoo wasn’t the first stranger he’s ever told this to, but it still feels different. It feels different because Kyungsoo isn’t getting paid to listen to him cry or feel awful, he’s not playing good cop-bad cop, or one of his classmates that never spared him any time until after the murders happened. Kyungsoo’s a guy he found at the gas station this morning and he’s watching him in silence; like he can empathize with the pain, and that’s enough to keep him talking.

“Our uncle took us in but, of course, he had conditions. He told us to head towards a decorous path, go big or go home.” His lips purse at the thought, thinking of Yoora and rage rises from his gut where it’d been buried before. How did he manage to leave without taking a swing at his uncle? The world may never know. “It went well for her--she knew what she wanted--but I-I didn’t.”

I still don’t, he adds subconsciously.

“My uncle told me that being a lawyer could be good for me, because it’s a respectable job and whatever. He manipulated me into doing everything he wanted me to do and used my dead parents to keep a hold of me,” Chanyeol is looking down into his coffee cup that had long turned cold, “he said it was to make them proud, that was what my parents would've wanted as he paid for everything.” He sighs. “Maybe they did want that, but I didn't. I didn't ask for any of this to happen.”

Kyungsoo swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, and nods slowly. Understandingly.

“The card thing-it just doesn't feel like me. It's not because I'm worried about being tracked, because I can't be, he’s not law enforcement,” Chanyeol continues, “But it wouldn't surprise me if he called in some favours and tried.” He waits for a reaction that never happens. He feels lighter, also exposed, wondering if Kyungsoo saw him in a different light. He couldn’t decide whether or not it was good or bad if he did.

After a moment of silence, Kyungsoo shifts in his chair. He leans forward on his elbows and Chanyeol waits--waits to be judged for being selfish, waits to be left because Kyungsoo had some high moral plane, but he just sits there. On his elbows, Kyungsoo says, “If I had a family to be with I wouldn't run.”

“I'm sorry,” Chanyeol blurts out and Kyungsoo shushes him.

“Dude, don't. I'm not trying to compare--that's not the right thing to do.” Kyungsoo is shaking his head at him and Chanyeol nods solemnly. If Kyungsoo has no one Chanyeol can't begin to feel what Kyungsoo’s felt. If it had just been him and Chanho, he wouldn't have made it.

He would've broke. 


	6. my open hand and heart think you belong with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's extremely short, but i've had this is my brain since the ending of may and i haven't posted it a while, so here it is.

They sit still, sipping their drinks as they watch people fade in and out until the awkwardness leaves them. Chanyeol doesn’t want Kyungsoo to feel like he has to talk about his family, and the way he slouches into his seat was exactly the same as if he were in the car. A sigh of relief exits Chanyeol and he’s reached one conclusion, at least: even if he was curious about Kyungsoo’s past, Kyungsoo didn’t owe his anything.

Especially not something as deep and consequential as a past that rendered him without a true family.

Chanyeol realizes that he really doesn’t want to drop Kyungsoo off. They’re in a coffee shop in a small town in California and the sheer volume of people passing through this pastel teal shop is tremendous. Kyungsoo could, without a doubt, find someone else to ride with--he was charming and non-threatening enough to do so. And Kyungsoo must think that too, because he’s shifting in his seat and quickly gazing between Chanyeol and the car--like it was the last time he’d see either of them. It makes Chanyeol sick to his stomach, thinking about leaving Kyungsoo here by himself. But, call Chanyeol selfish, it’s because he can’t bring himself to do it.

Kyungsoo was the most unapologetically colorful person Chanyeol’s ever met in his dull life, and it’s one-hundred percent more terrifying knowing that Chanyeol doesn’t just want to let go--that he physically can’t

Chanyeol chugs the remaining bit of the, now cold, coffee and tosses it into the trash bin behind them.

“C’mon Soo,” Chanyeol says, “Let’s go.”

Kyungsoo eagerly jumps to his feet, throwing his own cup in the trash before matching Chanyeol’s pace. They don’t say anything, but they lock eyes over the roof and Kyungsoo gives him a bright smile. Butterflies erupt from Chanyeol’s stomach and Chanyeol smiles back.

Maybe there was no love here, and Kyungsoo was just grateful not to be left behind, but Chanyeol felt himself falling for Kyungsoo. 

"I wasn't going to leave you behind," Chanyeol says, "Just in case you thought that I was." 

Nothing else needed to be said. 


End file.
